


Blind your eyes and steal your dreams

by l_cloudy



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Mistborn - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Minor Character Death, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:54:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_cloudy/pseuds/l_cloudy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vin wasn't born a skaa, and Kelsier finds an enemy instead of a disciple. It's two of them on the path to redemption. An AU for The Final Empire.</p><p>*waves* this was pretty much the first fic i ever wrote yearsss ago and one day i will continue it even if it kills me, but today is not that day //indefinite hiatus obvs// *waves*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sky was leaden, and the ashes stank.

Lord Tresting shock his head in disgust, glancing sideways at his servants. They had hurried to his side as soon as the ashes started falling, but their presence was now nagging and unnecessary. It was only the cold wind that made the parasols needed, that and the wish Tresting had to not cause any bother to his guests. Both of them.

The prelan was currently staring at the fields or, rather, at the skaa working with slow, apathetic indifference. His tattoos were big and dark, and something in his demeanor unsettled Tresling – or maybe that was just the woman at his side.

The woman – the Lady Valette, as she had introduced herself – avoided looking at the fields, or at the skaa. Her gaze was fixed on Tresting, an half-smile on her lips. When he turned his head, he could feel her eyes on his nape, strangely aware of her presence, of her regular breath and foreign smell. It was both unnerving and fascinating, and Tresting briefly wondered whether all the women in the capital were like that, or it was because she was an Allomancer.

Tresling slowly turned back to the obligator – and the woman – as if to show his composure. "One would think," he said, "that a thousand years of working in ﬁelds would have bred them to be a little more effective at it."

The obligator looked at him, an amused expression on his face, and Valette merely snorted, just loud enough to be heard. condescending turning to look him in the eyes.

Her companion raised an eyebrow at that. "You should see city skaa, Tresting," he said slowly, as if his words contained a hidden meaning Tresting couldn't understand. "Trust me, these are actually quite diligent." Valette snorted again, louder, but the obligator ignored her. "Just how many you lose a month, Tresting?"

"Oh, a half dozen or so," Tresting answered. "Some to beatings, some to exhaustion. No runaways, I execute the families of those who try."

He could _feel_ the woman's eyes on him. Dark, beautiful eyes. Tresling fixed his gaze on her, looking for any sign of a reaction to his words. "I've never understood men who have trouble with their skaa—I ﬁnd the creatures easy to control, if you show a properly ﬁrm hand."

The obligator nodded, looking pleased, but the Lady kept her amused expression on her pretty face, revealing nothing. Tresling could feel himself sweating despite the wind, and removed a handkerchief from his sleeve to wipe his brow.

"Well, Tresting," the woman said. "I will carry your proposal to the Lord Straff Venture, and my companion will offer a report." She looked at the obligator, the half-smile still on her face. "I dare say the Lord Straff will receive a favorable report?" It was more of a statement than a question, and Tresling felt glad when the obligator nodded.

Not for the first time, Tresting wondered what exactly was the woman's role in the negotiation. Any business deal and contract in the Final Empire required the presence of an obligator, but no rule dictated the presence of an Allomancer. The Lady Valette was obviously acquainted with Lord Venture, on familiar terms even – the deliberate use of his first name was a clear indication – but so was the obligator himself, Lord Venture's own. Maybe the Lord felt that the obligator needed some kind of protection? From who? And, in that case, why send a young woman?

A young woman, Tresting realized, not hard on the eye, despite her short hairstyle and sardonic smile, a woman certainly more attractive and refined than the skaa who worked on the field.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the obligator's voice. "We will leave back down the canal this afternoon, I think."

"So soon?" Tresting asked. "Wouldn't you care to stay for supper?"

"Actually," Valette cut in, "I would very much like this." She almost smiled, a real smile this time, and Tresting was finally able to place that erratic feeling he'd had since he had first laid eyes on the woman – desire. "Perhaps I could leave with a canal boat in the morning. I feel I haven't stayed long enough – I am sure there is still much to see!"

Again, the words seemed to carry another meaning, something that wasn't for Tresting to understand. He surely wasn't a fool enough to believe the Lady wished to spend the night in his bed.

"As you wish," the obligator replied, seemingly indifferent. He fixed his eyes on Tresting.

"There is another matter I wish to discuss with you, Tresting. I came not only at the behest of Lord Venture" he slightly nodded to Valette "but to... look in on some matters for the Canton of Inquisition. Rumors say that you enjoy your skaa women."

Tresting shivered, hastily trying to remember if there was any chance he could have… slipped, even once. He knew what the price was.

The obligator smiled though, a smile meant to be reassuring that came out upsetting instead. "Don't worry, Tresting," he said. "It is nothing of the sort."

"I have been _satisﬁed_ regarding your actions with your women" the obligator turned to look back at the Lady Valette, who laughed softly, once again excluding Tresting from the her private conversation.

She smiled at him, warmly once again. "You look like an efficient man, Tresting. There are no many men such as you in the capital – we need men like you. Just think about it, my Lord, who knows what the future might hold?"

Tresting found himself at the woman, no longer wary. It was satisfying to hear praise from the lips of such a fine Lady, words spoken in a distinctive Luthadel accent. And the obligator at her side – Straff Venture's obligator – seemed to agree with her.

It was a fine day indeed.

Tresting turned back toward the field, still feeling the presence of the Allomancer Lady at his side. He started thinking of Luthadel, of the parties and the splendour and the balls, and he wondered if he could persuade the Lady Valette to talk about the city over supper.

He wondered how long it would take, moving to the capital. He was reasonably sure he could fulfill his contract with Lord Venture in a year, if he worked the skaa hard enough. Tresting let his gaze linger on the fields. A year –

One of the men working in the fields suddenly looked up. Straight at him. He kept his back straight, an expression of defiance on his face. The Lord couldn't remember ever seeing a skaa looking in hi eyes, like that. _Smiling_.

Tresting winced, and the Lady Valette followed his gaze. "Kurdon!" he called.

The taskmaster looked at his Lord, an interrogative look on his face. "My Lord?"

Tresting looked back to the skaa, and frowned. The man he'd seen, the man who _smiled_ at him had disappeared, lost in a sea of sweaty brows and hungry men, all of them looking hopeless and _identical_.

Where was him? How dared he, a skaa, to look so defiantly at his Lord?

"My Lord?" Kurdon said again.

The obligator stood next to Tresting, an unreadable look on his face. With the corner of his eye, Tresting could have sword he'd seen the Lady Valette smile, just for a moment. Aas if she was privy to some secret, or she'd found the answer to a challenging riddle.

"Those skaa," Tresting pointed to the empty spot where the man had been. "They seem lazy. Do something, beat a few of them, make them work a little harder."

Kurdon shrugged, and nodded. With some luck, the skaa who had dared to show such… defiance would have been one of the men beaten.

Tresting turned his back to the fields, his mind back on the supper that awaited him. Talks of Luthadel, with Valette. And maybe some other ways to celebrate the day.  
There was that girl in the fourteenth hovel he'd been watching, but she suddenly didn't seem so appealing. Her body was more like that of a mother, Tresting thought, and her body had already been marked by years of hard work. There was another girl in the ninth hovel, though. She was a little too young, but fresh. Her hair was slightly too long, but it would do…

* * *

Kelsier sighed, looking at the sky.

It had rained earlier that day, pure rops of water falling from the sky, not a hint of ash in them. And then the ashes had started falling, and a cruel northern wind, and the smell of wet ashes now permeated the air. The sky was gray as always, although there were some hints of red, as the sun hadn't fully set yet.

That was the time when the mists came and the skaa went to bed, to try and get the few hours of sleep their Lord allowed them, before waking up to a new day of sweat and pain and blood.

Over and over again.

Kelsier sighed again and made his way to the skaa hovels, carefully trying to not step on the crops. A good part of the plants was going to die anyway, Kelsier knew, struggling to get some sunlight from under the coat of ash, but some part of him still recognized the hard work put into the crops, and he left the plants alone.

The sun was hidden behind the horizon now, and Kelsier could feel the mists approaching. He pulled open the door of the nearest hovel, stepping inside.

"Good evening, everyone." He smiled. "How was your day?"

* * *

He'd showed up on the doorstep of that particular hovel the night before, introducing himself as a traveler from the north. He hadn't said exactly _where_ he was from – not that those skaa would have recognized the name anyway – and he had assured his hosts that he wasn't a runaway. Still, one of the men, an elder called Tepper, had managed to guess who he really was.

Kelsier had wandered around the house and the fields, almost got a beating for looking at the Lord the wrong way, and was currently exchanging his news for food. Or whatever they passed off as food, Kelsier didn't particularly care – he'd brought his own. He'd slipped inside the manor earlier that day, while the Lord Tresting was busy on his patio entertaining an obligator from the capital and ogling a Lady young enough to be his daughter, and stole some real, fresh food.

He was currently sat on the floor, eating an apple and discussing with one of the elders. Talking about the pits.

Until they heard a scream.

There was a deep scream, almost like a growl, and then there was the girl. Her cries were high-pitched, distinctly female, and terrified. Kelsier's senses were enhanced by the Tin he was burning, and he was able to place the screams. Whoever it was, she was very young, and was being carried to the Lord's manor.

The door slammed as someone – likely one of the youths – walked out. Kelsier heard him exchanging a few words with someone, quietly, and then walking back to the hovel.

"They took Lori," the boy said, shocking his head.

"Lori?" it was a woman this time, surprise in her voice. "What did the poor child do?"

Tepper nodded in agreement. "Gavin thought they had a few more years, for sure."

"Mark my words, Tepper," it was the woman again, "Jess ain't sad as the rest of us. Mark my words."

Kelsier's gaze searched for the man he was talking to… before. The elder. Mennis, or something. "Does Lord Tresting ever send back the girls after he's done with them?"

Mennis shook his head. "Lord Tresting is a good nobleman, traveler. And scared of the Inquisitors – he always had the girls killed in a few weeks."

Kelsier inspired, jumping on his feet and walking toward the door.

Old Mennis's voice stopped him. "Watch yourself, son. You'll never raise that rebellion of yours if you get yourself killed tonight."

Kelsier turned to glance at the elder, and smiled. He liked to smile – it was the only thing the Lord Ruler could never take away from him. The only thing he _hadn't_ taken. "I'm not here to lead a rebellion among you, Goodman Mennis. I just want to stir up a little trouble."

"What good could that do?"

Kelsier's smile deepened at that. Nothing much, really. But it was _a_ beginning. "New days are coming, Goodman. Now, I bid you all thanks for your hospitality."

He opened the door and walked out. The mists welcomed him.

* * *

Kelsier remembered the path to the Lord's manor. And even if he hadn't, there was enough light coming out of the windows to make him able to see the house even through the mists. With the girl's screams resounding in his head, Kelsier didn't bother to try and walk unnoticed. He burned steel and threw coins, making his way to the manor as fast as he could. Kelsier heard the guards calling to him and pushed on their armor, throwing them one against the other, making himself a way through the shouts and the guards. He burned iron and pulled on the metal frames of the first door he could find, slamming it open. He went in search of the Lord's room and found the Lady instead.

She was sitting by the fire in the main entrance hall when Kelsier opened the door, looking calm and composed, a book in her hands. Her gown was green, her eyes were huge and she didn't look older than eighteen.

"Good evening," she said, standing up. "Please go away."

It took Kelsier a moment to realize she wasn't talking to him, but rather to the guards who had come behind him, swords at hand. Their leader glanced from Kelsier to the girl, uncomfortable.

"My lady –"

She interrupted him, ice in her voice. "I said, soldier, to go away. You cannot fight an Allomancer with metal weapon – go guard your Lord and get out of here." The men hesitated. "Now."

 _She might be a Soother_ , Kelsier thought, as the guards retired inside the house. _So_ this _is where the Lord's chamber is!_ He made to follow them, the skaa girl's screams still on his mind, when the door slammed closed. _Coinshot, then._

Kelsier didn't bother opening the door again – she would close it again, and he didn't have time to play. He turned to the Lady instead.

"I am terribly sorry," and that sounded almost sincere. "But I must be –"

"Yes," she interrupted him. "I know. That nasty custom of bedding skaa. Quite useless, if you ask me. There are many poor young women of clean ancestry who would make for excellent bed companions, with no body to dispose after." Kelsier thought he might hear a note of real disgust under her carefully chosen words. "By the Lord Ruler, I would rather he'd come knocking to my door tonight. It would have been less pathetic." Her eyes fixed on Kelsier. "Still, I fear I can't allow you to take your revenge on the Lord Tresting tonight. It would be a shame for my Lord's finances if he were to die now."

Kelsier had to smile at that, despite the situation he was in. "I like you, my Lady." As much as he could like a member of the nobility. Well enough to spare her life, maybe. This time. "Go back to Luthadel and live your life." _For as long as it lasts._ "And don't play games with me. I don't want to harm you."

It was the girl's turn to smile now, and suddenly Kelsier found himself pushed back by the sachet of coins he still had at his belt. He hit the wall behind him with a loud _crash_ , and then he was moving again, toward the wall in front of him. And again. And again.

He hit his head then, and it all went black.

* * *

Elder Mennis woke up two hours before dawn. He'd tossed and turned all night, waiting for Kelsier's return and fearing the reaction of the Lord Tresting. Kelsier hadn't come back to the hovel that night, and Mennis didn't know whether to be glad or scared. Some part of him hoped the Survivor had given up and left the plantation, but another part felt compassion for the skaa girl who had been taken to the master's bed, and for her aging father, whose cries of despair had resounded in the night long after Kelsier had left.

The other skaa usually awoke at dawn, sleeping as long as they could. On that particular morning, they woke in the gray of the early morning, to the taste of fear in the air.

It was nothing like the previous night had been – no loud screams, no cries, no hopelessness. This time, it was nervous chattering and silent whispers, and restlessness. It all came from the ninth hovel, Mennis found out, the hovel where young Lori used to live with her father. She hadn't been returned the previous night, and Mennis didn't know whether to feel sorry for the girl or relieved to have avoided Lord Tresting's punishment. And then Jess came in, saying that Lori hadn't been returned but her father and sister had disappeared, too.

He made his way to the ninth hovel as fast as his aging legs could carry him, and there was a group of skaa talking right outside the door. It was Jonny, Bara's kid that explained it to him, scared and angry and somewhat excited.

"They say the Survivor is a Misting," Jonny shivered as he said that, the word sounding foreigner on his lips, "they say nothing can kill him, but he was hurt pretty bad, he was. Head bleeding and all bruised. Came in the middle of the night, but he was no mistwraith, all bleeding like that.

He got little Lori though, that he did."

Mennis waited for the rest, unnerved, his mind trying to sort through the boy's talks.

"He said he tried to take on the Lord's men too," there was disbelief in his voice, and Mennis couldn't blame him, "but he got stopped, by some _Allomancer_. Said he was a Lady, of all things."

"But he still got Lori out, didn't he?"

"Barely, he said. Brought her away from here, and her family too, so the Lord won't kill 'em."

Mennis could see it now, the furious reaction of the Lord Tresting, the tears and the blood that would follow. He'd gotten Lori's family away, but he'd left the rest of the skaa there, at the mercy of the Lord. There would be anger, Mennis knew it, and revenge. The other skaa would end uo hating the girl, wishing she'd died that night and spared them the suffer.

 _Damn you, Kelsier_ , he thought, as he saw the first soldiers approaching. _What have you done?_


	2. Chapter 2

"It was him – the Survivor. I'm sure of it."

"And," Lord Venture asked, leaning on his chair. "Was he really as strong as they say he is?"

Valette narrowed her eyes, frowning. She didn't like to admit her weakness. "Yes," she said eventually. "He's not uncannily strong, but very, very skilled. I took him by surprise and he still managed to escape."

Venture nodded slowly. "It's good of you to say that, Vin. I wouldn't want you to become a liar."  
He was even closer now, his breath mere inches from Valette's skin, and she shivered.

" _Don't_ call me that."

Her voice was soft and her tone defiant, and she knew Straff Venture wouldn't have tolerated those words had they come from anyone else. But Valette Renaux wasn't anyone else – she was too valuable, and she knew it.

It was a while before Venture spoke again. "What of the skaa?"

"He couldn't kill them all, obviously," Valette answered. The skaa belonged to the Lord Ruler and, even though most Lords were allowed to dispose of them as they pleased, killing so many would have gained the Lord Ruler's attention, and not in a good way. A man who couldn't control his skaa wasn't a man to be trusted, and Tresting was far too ambitious to risk Venture's alliance out of spite. "The girl's father had fled with her, so Tresting rounded them all and killed five in every two dozens."

Venture nodded a second time, approvingly. "He's a capable man," he noticed, and Valette found herself agreeing. Tresting was an overly ambitious country lord, not to mention a pig, but he knew his business.

"Is there anything else?" She asked. _My Lord_ , she should have added, but she never did, and Venture often pretended to not noticed. Valette suspected he liked the constant challenge, the banter.

"No." He said. "That'd be all."

Valette nodded once more and walked away, giving Venture a nod that didn't resemble a bow in the least. She heard him laugh as the door closed.

Keep Venture was one of the most beautiful buildings in the city, in Valette's opinion. Of course some of the other Houses' Keeps were more modern, more aesthetically pleasant, but nothing could compare to Keep Venture's decadent grandeur.  
Valette loved it there, more than any other place she'd been in. It was ten times better than Lekal's keep, a hundred times better than her father's dark rooms, a thousand times better than her mother's damp hovel.

Keep Venture was wonderful, Valette concluded – but it wasn't safe. No place was safe. Straff needed her, enjoyed the power that employing a Mistborn gave him on the other Houses, but Valette knew him well enough to know that he would have her killed in a heartbeat if he decided so. Being the daughter of Tevidian brought her some small measure of influence, but she was still born out of wedlock, her father was still a Prelan, and she didn't have a House to support her.

_When you're alone, no one can betray you_ , Reen used to say. He'd say it every time their mother would scream into the night, because of the alcohol or because of some man. _It's the only way you'll learn. Anyone will betray you, Vin. Anyone._ She never allowed anyone to use that name – except for the voice in his dreams _, Reen's_ voice.

_And I showed him, didn't I?_

Reen was probably dead now, but his words still stuck. And he'd been right, for sure. Mistrust, caution, those were the rules to live by, no matter if you were the son of a whore or a Lady of the Final Empire. Reen, Valette couldn't help but think, would have gotten along very well with Straff Venture.

He was in the Keep's library when you got in, as he often was, reading a book that looked at least a century old. _A study of the canal system in the Northern Dominance_ , the cover said, and Valette could have sworn that wasn't the real title.

"Lord Elend," she called, sitting down next to him.

He didn't even raise his head, barely acknowledging her. "Lady Valette."

And then he went back to his book.

Elend Venture, Valette had decided years ago, was probably the only trustworthy person in all of Luthadel. A fool and an idealist, but she like him all the same, with his deep gaze and sharp mind. She was quite sure Elend enjoyed her company too – when he forgot to dislike her on principle, on account of Valette working for the father he despised.

Straff encouraging them to spend time together – as much as Straff could encourage anyone – didn't help the situation in the least. Valette suspected that Lord Venture would have wanted her to become his son's mistress, to strengthen her bond to him and Valette's to the Venture family; but the man didn't seem to know his son enough to realize that, whatever he wanted Elend to do, he wouldn't.

"And what about the canal system, then?" Valette asked after a prolonged pause.

Elend frowned, confused. "What?"

"Your book. The cover."

"Ah." Elend recovered quickly. "Of course. What about it?"

She found herself laughing. "Next time you decide to use a fake cover, your Lordship, read it first."

He kept his face calm and even, as if he hadn't heard a word about _fake covers_ , and Valette laughed.

"I got to travel by canal, you know. To Tresting's plantation."

"I know," Elend said, closing his book but placing a piece of paper inside to mark the page. He finally looked at her in the eyes. "And I heard what happened."

"What happened?" Valette asked, in mock curiosity.

"The Survivor showed up, didn't he?"

That was too much. She'd heard about The Survivor enough from Straff already, and he she _had_ to listen to – pretend, at least. Elend, on the other hand, she didn't.

"Did you, now?" He nodded. "Then you would also know that we _fought_. And _I_ _won_. You heard _that_?"

The spark in Elend's eyes was gone for a moment, before coming back. "And what about what happened next, my Lady? The Lord Tresting? Killed one out of five, didn't he?"

He was, Valette throught for what had to be the hundredth time, an hopeless idealist.

"Tell me it doesn't matter, Valette." Elend continued, anger in his voice. "Tell me it doesn't matter because they _belonged_ to him, because he had _the right_ , because they are _not like us_. Look at me in the eyes, Valette, and tell me all this, and I won't believe you."

He paused for emphasis, mere inches between your faces, his eyes digging into your soul. "Because you know it's not true. You, better than us all."

Had it been anyone else to bring this up, the past Valette would rather forget, she would have killed him. No matter who – a Prelan or a Obligator or the Lord Ruler himself, she would have killed him or die trying. But this was Elend, so she controlled her anger and took a breath.

"He did it because he _could_ , and it is his business and not mine. My Lord." His eyes shined with emotion in the lights. _What a fool_. "Why don't you go and talk to him?"

But they were past the point of logic, the way it usually happened during their arguments. "How can you not _understand_?"

"I _understand_." Valette dragged her words the same way Elend had, her voice a whisper. "But it doesn't mean that I should _care_."

He opened his mouth to say something else, some moralist, idealist cliche, no doubt, but Valette didn't want to hear it, and his eyes were on hers, faces only inches close.  
So she kissed him.


End file.
